


Full of Luck, Out of Time

by CumberRachel



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberRachel/pseuds/CumberRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he finally wakes in the one place he's been trying to avoid, Bucky wandered why he has never felt more comfortable  and secure, it cant just have been Stark's lovely furnishings...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of Luck, Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken such a long time, I am currently in the middle of my exam period and I kept having writers block and everything I wrote was crap. I'm still not entirely happy with this but its longer than all the previous instalments and I really needed to upload something. I did upload something to my other series which I'm co-author of with a friend if you are at all interested in cute and fluffy Avengers One Shots? please do take a look, she is an excellent writer. As always, any and all mistakes are my own, please let me know what you think. Enjoy :)

_Ice, there was only ice. He couldn't go back in the ice! Freezing and wet. Dripping from his hair. Wait._ Wet? The cryo-tube was never wet, just cold. 

 

"Aahhhhh!" The assassin jerked into consciousness, grabbing at the chain that held his arm up. His chest raising and falling in hurried breaths, as though he'd run a marathon. 

 

"Evening." A man spoke from in front of him, a man he'd only just noticed. Strong arms, short blonde hair, steely eyes boring into him, glaring in obvious hatred, and... holding a bucket. A shorter woman stood behind him to the side, shoulder length curly red hair, arms folded, clearly sting and powerful despite her size. She was also glaring, but it was softer, here eyes held something else. Concern? Guilt? Did he know her? The brunette narrowed his eyes and sifted through his, somewhat limited, memories. He could remember very little of Young Bucky with bright blue shining eyes too big for his head, soft brown hair that was just too long and tickled his nose when it fell in front of his eyes,  _the brightest smile in Brooklyn,_ or so he'd been told by his mother. He had more memories of the soldier, Sargent James Barnes: cap tilted to one side, lucky with the dame's, glimpses of a skinny best friend he couldn't protect from across the pond. Then dead Bucky, at least that's how he'd wanted to be lying in the freezing lab, syringes had never been his favourite. He was glad he could t remember the fall just yet, every so often he heard the click-clack of a train on the tracks. Then lying in the soft snow. The last softness he could remember, even when bleeding out through his arm.

  
_Where is my arm..._ He thought, glancing down and seeing the bandaged wreck that was his bare left shoulder, still only semi lucid.

 

"You looking for this?" Bucket man jeered, waving the, what could be called scrap metal, arm in his general direction. "You pulled it off yourself. We have a specialist who's gonna take a look at it. You are gonna stay here and we will ask you questions, how's that sounding?" He continued, tone causal and lighthearted yet still sinister managing to both irritate and unnerve Bucky. Deciding it was best to stay quiet, and not piss the guy off any more than he clearly already had, Bucky simply nodded. 

 

The smaller woman frowned at bucket man and then at Bucky, walking forwards until she was about an arms reach away. They guy's glare became harder, more threatening. Those two have a thing then, something between them... 

Her steps had been deliberate yet delicate, almost like a dancers: every move was planned and perfected but it held grace and control.  Her penetrating gaze never left the assassins form, analysing every inch, taking in all the bruising and scars (old and new), the dirt, the way his ribs stuck out like a cliff over a sunken stomach, even the matted clumps of filth in his tangled hair. He was in dire need of a shave and some soap.

 

"James, we're gonna get you cleaned up okay? You won't be alone but you'll be able to shower and we'll give you clean clothes and something to eat and drink. Even though you're in chains we don't actually think you're a threat-" bucket man scoffed at this, turning and booting the bucket to the other end of a car park. At least that's what It looked like. The small woman simply ignored him and continued her speech.

 

"You're in the basement of Stark Tower. That's Clint, he doesn't like that you put Steve in hospital, then ran from him. Don't worry though, he'll get over it..." She turned to give Clint a look that could kill, he simply nodded and stalked over to fetch the bucket, grumbling about women and power and being treated like a child or something.

 

"James, you apparently don't seem to remember me, that's alright, but I'm gonna try and jog your memory. My name is Natasha Romanov, you know me as Natalia. We worked together for the KGB, not by choice. My code name was, still is, 'Black Widow'. Yours was 'The Winter Soldier'. You don't need to be afraid any more James." Her words had the desired effect on Bucky, his head tilted as new images flashed over his eyes, a training room, accommodation that was more like a prison cell, working in the field, the frozen wastelands of Russia that never affected him. Hand to hand combat with the petite red head and losing for the first time.

 

"Natalia?" He rasped, knowing she could see the recognition in his eyes. It was small accomplishment but he was proud regardless. There were times when not being able to remember frustrated him so much, it was as though his mind was a corridor full of rooms, each one holding a treasurers memory. He was slowly unlocking doors, finding some already unlocked, finding keys and then searching for the door that fit them. Some doors had glass windows where he could see hints of the history inside, others were solid steel with reinforced locks and Bucky could only imagine what was trapped inside. It was either so horrific that his own mind had doubled the efforts to keep it hidden or it was so wonderful that hydra had done all that they could to prevent him remembering.

 

"That's right James, Natalia. We're going to go and find our resident doctor so he can check your arm, it has to be causing you pain." The words were spoken in a soft, velvety voice. One Bucky had never been able to refuse. He nodded dumbly, glancing down to find himself shirtless, not that his clothing had been at all adequate. His stump was wrapped in dressings held together with elastic bands, he could barely feel anything in it anymore. He was grateful. The pain of removing the metal one subsided as soon as he blacked out and the freezing temperatures had done wanders to numb the pain once he came round. 

 

However now he was regaining sensation, the assassin began to feel discomfort, mainly around the shoulder area. Here his skin was exposed and it was mostly pink and inflamed, swelling bigger than the metal plates still adorning his shoulder would allow. It made him fearful for the rest of the limb. Absently he wandered if they'd fully amputate, up to the shoulder this time. Not that he'd care, not really, it would probably be less pain and hassle, although probably a reduced range of movement. 

 

His head snapped up at the sound of a door closing, he was now alone. His skills had clearly diminished as he hadn't heard anything, to preoccupied with his own plight. However, now that he was alone, he could take in his surroundings and establish the danger levels and possible risk to his safety. 

 

Stark tower. One thing he knew. He'd observed the place for a good week or so, he knew the area well. No apparent outside threats that he could remember. He knew Stark's security was tight, he'd seen a simple business man get thrown out, shortly followed by his Swiss Army knife...

 

So, the room he was in. There was what looked like an incline out of the basement. There were 20 cars of various design, worth and condition with room for approximately 5 more. Originally, Bucky had assumed 'car park' but given 12 of the number plates held some variations of the name 'STARK' on them he could only assume it wasn't publicly used. Two vans, five sports cars, two pick-up trucks, three vintage cars parked away from the others, and the rest were just average business cars. Oh, and there's that limo in the corner. Bucky could vaguely make out a motorbike in the reflection of the elevator doors across rom him. He smiled to himself softly, it's exactly the kind Steve would ride.  _Does_  ride, apparently. At least that's what he could assume. 

 

Bucky looked up at the chain around his wrist; it was silver and shiny, not rusty iron like he expected. The insides were softly lined and padded, proving to the assassin inside that it was more for caution than punishment. He hadn't noticed the two similar chains hugging his ankles. He has enough chain length to allow him to move a few metres in each direction but not to reach anything he could use to escape. He liked that trust. 

 

To his left was the closest wall, furthest from the drivers exit, closest to the entrance. It has about ten metres away. The wall had a tap jutting out with a drain beneath it, there were a few sponges in a basket to the right and a random set of tools to the left. He could even see a hose poking out behind a plank of wood lent against the wall, he hoped to God they didn't use it on him. He had a brief few seconds where his vision was clouded by the mask they used. The feeling of pressurised water knocking the air out of his lungs, the stones cutting into his flesh. 

 

The rest of the place was like an average basement, albeit an oversized basement: minimal lighting, the smell of fuel and fumes, some tyre tracks littered the floor and the ceiling had the odd crack but there was nothing obviously threatening that gave Bucky reason to be concerned. 

 

He could even say he was grateful. Any longer and he wasn't sure he'd have survived. Still scavenging from bins and hiding out in alleys, Bucky hadn't been able to venture out into the streets. He was wrecked and constantly slipping between himself and the assassin. Not to mention the fact he was clutching a metal limb at all times. If anyone saw him they would call the police in seconds and he wouldn't have chance to run. His best bet was to wait it out as long as he could and when he couldn't he would surrender. Giving into that sleep of death where no dreams would come. 

 

The last thing he'd expected was to pass out behind a strip club and wake up in a basement.  

* * *

 

"You know, you'd have thought that finding out his best friend is still alive would make a man ecstatic..."

 

Bucky blinked open his blurry eyes. The scarce light piercing his cornea and stabbing his brain, the pounding  _thud thud thud_  of pain was almost as if someone was prodding him with something electrical in time to his heart just for kicks.

 

"But instead he locked himself in his floor and drew. Im sure you're aware of how good an artist he is, being his  _best friend_  and all?" 

 

Bucky frowned and let his eyes adjust, finally focusing enough to figure out who the fuzzy form in front of him was. 

 

"Stark?" He rasped, wandering what he was talking about. If there wasn't a small rodent burrowing into his skull then he could probably find out however, he wasn't graced with such a luxury and he still hasn't been given anything to drink. 

 

"Yes, Stark! You don't even realise what you've done to Steve do you, you couldn't care less! No matter what he says you are always gonna be the god damned Winter Soldier who failed his mission. I don't know how you survived falling from the train but I'm gonna do everything in my power to keep you away from Steve. I won't let you hurt him again. Not while I'm still breathing." Starks words hurt worse than anything hydra had done. If what Stark was saying was true the Bucky had let Stevie down again. And now he wasn't being given the opportunity to make it right.

 

Bucky saw Stark stalk over to him, a knife in his trembling hand. The assassin raised his chin, allowing the smaller man room to press the shining blade against his jugular. Bucky wasn't sure if Stark knew what he was doing but if he did then Bucky was thankful to be alive. 

 

"Do it." He pleaded, knowing he could never be what he was, a hero, a friend, a brother. "I deserve it." He added, pressing his neck forward into the knife edge.

 

He couldn't decide if he was irritated or grateful when the cavalry arrived in the form of Natalia and Clint. 

 

"Stark, what are you doing?" Natalia asked outright, not being careful. Maybe she knew Stark better than he did. Bucky swallowed, keeping eye contact to show he wasn't afraid but being sure to remain as still and non-threatening as possible. 

 

Oddly, Starks manic eyes flicked down the the knife, back to his face and down again. He then he stumbled a few paces backward with it in his palm. Promptly dropping it as though it had burnt him. Horrified, Stark back peddled and left the three alone. Bucky swallowed again, blinking rapidly in an attempt to understand what had happened. Coming back to himself and realising what he'd just asked him to do... 

 

Natalie approached slowly, a bottle of water and a boxed sandwich in her hands. Glancing behind her, Bucky could see that Clint had a wash kit, a towel and some clothes tucked under his arm. They both wore the same expression on their face; slightly confused, more concerned and looking a little accusatory towards Bucky. 

 

"Mr Barnes did not do anything to antagonise Mr Stark. Sir did not sleep last night and the arrival of the Winter Soldier appears to have... Unnerved him." 

 

Bucky startled as a disembodied voice echoed through the basement. He clung to the chain at his wrist for no reason other than to have something to hold.

 

"James, it's okay. That's JARVIS. He's Starks artificial intelligence and he monitors the building and everyone in it. He can't hurt you." Natalia implored, she wasn't even phased by his reaction. She simply took her time to explain. Bucky decided that he could trust whatever Natalia said, so far everything had been true and in no way off standish towards him. 

 

"I brought you water and a some food, we can take you up and help you get clean and everything. Might make you feel a little better, more yourself." Natalia made it sound like be had a choice, which maybe he did but he wasn't about to decline the offer, that would be rude. Also, he might get the chance to apologise, he might bump into Steve and... 

 

After that he didn't really know what. He's only ever got as far as seeing him, never moved past that and despite the opportunities he never had any idea what to do next. 

 

Natalia and Clint were patiently waiting for a response when he could be getting clean. The food and drink were added to Clint's load so Natalia could begin to remove the bindings when he nodded.

 

Bucky may have grown up in the 40's and was in the war but he hated feeling grimy. Especially since becoming the assassin.  As a sniper he hadn't got up close and personal with the Hydra agents he was shooting. The KGB turned him into a monster, one who was used to kill up close and from afar. It took weeks to get the taste of blood out the first time. With more memory wipes came less concern and the man behind the mask hibernated in order to save himself. Now he was waking though, and all the awful sensations and feelings were at the forefront of his mind. He could taste his own blood and sick, smell the alcohol and rotting food left on his body from his stay in the alleys, he could just about see how awful his hair was. He'd come to like it long, once it was past the stage where there was nothing to be done with it but let it fall into his eyes and irritate him. He knew there were patches of dried blood all over, scabs and scars that took longer than usual to disappear. He was going to need Natalia to help him clean properly, especially when he only had one arm.

 

They'd made it to the elevator with almost no issues, the chains were coded rather than key locked,  _clever_... So it had taken less than a minute to get him out of them. Getting into the elevator had been more difficult as Bucky apparently had trouble walking, maybe it was because he felt lopsided and off balance, maybe he had been injured. Who knows. After falling to his knees twice, Clint disappeared around a  corner and returned with a wheelchair. Reluctantly, Bucky all but fell into the chair, letting his legs relax. As her hands were free, Natalia was the one to push him into the elevator and get him settled, locking the wheels even though the journey would be the smoothest ride of his life. 

 

Feeling a soft palm on his right shoulder, Bucky looked over to see Natalia holding out the bottle of water - pre-opened. He was unsure if he would be okay with it as he hadn't drunk for a few days but considering he had once been able to drink coffee he decided it would be okay. 

 

"Thanks." He rasped, his voice no better than before. Bucky took the bottle and drained it within seconds, panting heavily once he'd done, crumpling the empty bottle in his palm. 

 

"Thank you." He said, sounding more human and less undead. Handing back the bottle to Natalia's waiting hand he noticed the light indicating the floor was moving a lot faster than he anticipated. Upon closer inspection he saw that the top 12 floors were residential: 

Penthouse 

Communal

T.Stark

B.Banner

Thor (+ J.Fostor) 

C.Barton/N.Romanov

N.Romanov/C.Barton

S.Rogers

Guest (J.Rhodes, P.Potts, D.Lewis)

Gym/Training Area/Pool

Guest (Other)

Guest (Other)

 

Bucky pointed at the 8th floor down, wandering why the little backlight illuminating the name was down. 

 

" _Stevie_." He whispered, pained and guilty. A wave of nostalgia threatening to rip him away from reality. He refrained from pressing the button, instead reaching up and stroking the name with his thumb. 

 

"Yeah, his floor is kinda shut down at the moment. No one allowed, not even him." Clint explained, his voice still icy cold but softer than it had been at their first meeting. "I like the nickname though." He added with a mischievous grin. Bucky glared up at him with malice and only just managed not to growl at him. Only  _he_  was allowed to call him Stevie, no one else.

 

"Hey James-" the hand on his shoulder tightened and stopped him from getting closer to the other man. "Clint isn't going to be a prick and use it if you don't want him to. We're good, we're going to try and keep ourselves out of chains right? You do this for us, let us help you then you won't go back in them. The second we think you're a threat we lock you up. Deal?" Natalia's words were harsh but her voice was trusting, other than Steve, she was the only one who had history with him. While he couldn't remember everything, he must have done something right otherwise she wouldn't be helping. Bucky nodded once, relaxing back into the chair between them. 

 

Once the elevator stopped and the doors breezed open, Bucky had become very nervous. He didn't know if he would encounter anyone, he didn't know the layout, it could be a trap.  _Oh god_  they could be bringing him here to  _kill_  him!

 

Instinctively, Bucky reached under the back of Natalia's jacket and pulled out the knife he somehow knew was hidden there. He hadn't seen her put it there, and it hadn't been visible at all. This was learned, muscle memory... Unfortunately, his confusion about the knife meant Clint was able to swiftly kick it out of his hand, it clattering on the dark wooden flooring and under a cabinet out of sight. 

 

"What the hell Barnes? It's like you want to be in chains." Clint cried, picking up his stack of dropped clothing  and stalking off into a room, possibly the bedroom or bathroom. Bucky just watched, astonished at his own actions. He hadn't been the soldier... He was still Bucky. Those actions were his choice, even if it was nuclear memory.

 

"James...?" Natalia's voice startled him into reality. "We're not going to hurt you. We want to help but the only way we can is if you let us." Again Bucky noticed how Natalia's speech was both powerful and calming. Even if he couldn't remember, he could understand why he was drawn to Natalia. 

 

Bucky nodded stiffly, carefully standing up and walking with educated steps in the direction Clint went in, waving off Natalia's offered help. The room he entered was in fact a bedroom with a connected bathroom. The room had two walls that were full length windows with a city scape of sky-scrapers and office blocks. The bed could comfortably fit four. The carpet was soft under his bare toes and the colours were vibrant and contrasting, purples and reds and blues. Nothing like Bucky was used to. Luckily the lights were dim so they weren't too bright and offensive. Clint was crouched on one of the - Bucky didn't exactly know what it was... It was a tall structure with parts carved out in odd shapes and patterns. Whatever it was, it was an odd place to perch upon, especially with how it wobbled. 

 

"I like high places, Barnes. Means I get to watch everything." He declared, obviously talking offence at Bucky's inquisitive expression.

 

"Come one James, bathroom's through here. You mind if I help you or do you want Clint?" Natalia asked, waiting by the door for Bucky to follow. He shook his head and hurried after her, ignoring the displease sound coming from Clint. Natalia was already filling the large basin when he entered, he stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do, waiting for an order. Natalia turned and looked at him expectantly, gesturing to the bath. Frowning, Bucky went to step inside the slightly steaming water but Natalia placed her hand on his wrist, pulling him back with a slight shake of her head. What is she trying to do? What is is he needs to do? 

 

"C'mon James... You know you don't bathe fully... Half clothed." She chimed, a very unsubtle hint for Bucky, clearly sensing his confusion. The assassin nodded and began to fumble with the ridiculously complex system on his waist, there were multiple buttons and buckles and zippers that became a lot harder when you only had one hand. Natalia stepped forward slightly, her hands hovering slightly forward away from her body in offering. Bucky growled quietly under his breath, he would do this by himself, he could do this by himself, he didn't need any help! 

 

Natalia stepped back, understanding not to interrupt, the quicker he learned to cope with one arm the longer he could go without. Especially that faulty, heavy, grinding lump of metal Hydra designed in place of his arm. After a few minutes he was finally free, the pants falling to the floor and pooling at his feet. Natalia raised her eyebrows, he wasn't done yet...

 

Bucky followed the instruction, sliding the now damp pants past his heels. After a pointed look from Natasha, Bucky's boxers soon followed, along with a subtle blush spreading across his cheeks. 

 

"Didn't expect you to care much about modesty Barnes." Natalia teased, gesturing to the tub while she grabbed some bottles from a cabinet. Bucky shrugged his good shoulder and stepped into the surprisingly deep bath, letting the warmth shake the last of the ice water he'd had thrown at him. He even let out a little sigh of contentment, knowing that once he was clean he would fell more like Bucky and less like a filthy crazed assassin Hydra turned him into. 

 

Bucky sat patiently, water coming half way up his torso, while Natalia cleaned him. While he was tense against each touch the flannel she coated in soap was soft and luxurious against his marred skin, the scent was fruity but somehow not feminine. He could only thank Stark for that one. Regrettably. Every area she bathed became less tense, loosening his muscles until he was pliant beneath her touch. Before moving to a new area, Natalia would warn him, so he knew where the next touch would be coming from. She kept asking him if anywhere hurt, repeatedly telling him he was allowed to admit it if it did. Although if anything was damaged he doubt he'd be able to feel it... Natalia made the odd comment about his size, having not been able to eat a lot he'd lost a lot of weight, he'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the way in to the bathroom; even when he was so poor he could hardly feed Steve, let alone himself, he hadn't been this underweight. Each rib stuck out, skin taught in between. His stomach was a hollow pit and his hips were prominent. As were his shoulders and spine, each vertebrae jutting out like miniature mountains. Having been kept in the ice and the dark for so long meant Bucky's skin was almost grey in colour, apart from the pink patches of past punishments, scarring that had not completely healed the way Steve's would. His serum was a knockoff version, good enough to do the job but it lacked some of the benefits. 

 

"Seriously James, did you eat at all?" Natalia pressed, gently tipping his head back and using the shower attachment to wash the lathered shampoo out of his tangled hair. Her hands were soft and nimble, not pulling too hard and making sure to keep his face dry.

 

"I tried..." He mumbled in response, curling slightly tighter into himself. "Most of the time it just came back up again..." He added sadly, his body feeling the energy drain, crying out for sustenance.

 

"Bruce should be able to help you out with that. Will you let us hook you up to an IV until you have more energy?" She asked, tenderly running her fingers through the last of the knots. Bucky nodded, knowing he had little other choice. 

 

"I'm okay with coffee..." He mused, remembering the times when he'd watches Steve running from the little cafe, sipping on steaming black coffee. 

 

"You would be..." Natalia chuckled, standing up from the bath side and grabbing a heated towel. 

 

"Let's get you out before you get all wrinkly, mind if I shave you? You need one..." She inquired, handing Bucky the towel once he stood, not waiting for an answer before she fetched the disposable razor from the cabinet. Bucky just stood, awkwardly holding the towel as he was unable to wrap it round himself with one arm. He also couldn't figure out how to drain the water from Starks bath, he could see the water was filtering through but there was no visible drain. Not knowing what else to do, Bucky stepped onto the drying mat and patted himself down poorly. 

 

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Natalia mumbled, setting the razor and foam down, taking the large towel from him and wrapping it  around his waist. She smiled softly, telling him so sit on the toilet lid so she could rid him of his 5 o'clock shadow. 

* * *

 

Once back in the bedroom, Bucky could feel the tug of exhaustion competing with the pain growing in what was left of his arm. Clint had left by now so that just left Natalia to help dress him. It was relatively easy until Bucky decided he wanted the metal plates off as well. 

 

"Woah, woah  James stop!" Natalia urged, prying his good hand away from the shoulder, stopping him from ripping the last of Hyrda's weapon off. "Look, I promise we'll get it off but you can't do that without any anaesthetic. Neither of us are that medically trained, you need to wait." She cautioned, pulling the shirt over his head and covering the stump effectively. 

 

"Bruce said this would help, high enough dosage to stop Cap feeling any pain so it will definitely work on him." Clint said as he strode back into the room, holding a syringe and some little bottles of clear liquid. 

 

"Oh great, thank you." Natalia said with meaning, taking the vials from him and leading Bucky to the bed. "You'll wanna get comfortable, these will probably put you out." She warned gently. Clint pulled a water bottle out of somewhere and handed it to Bucky, now standing to one side of the bed. 

 

"You'll want to drink this first, I had one hell'ov'a headache when I came round from that stuff. And I had a quarter the dosage." He informed, his voice now gentler, less cold and calculating. Apparently seeing the assassin so fragile made him feel more secure about his, and the teams, safety. He was wrong, even in his current state, Bucky could probably kill him but he wasn't about to give Clint another reason to be weary around him. 

 

Bucky took the water graciously, noting how it wasn't a screw top. He could just open it with his teeth and drink. He downed it in two goes, handing it back to Clint's waiting hand before laying back fully against the sheets. Whilst he had been drinking, Natalia had sorted the drugs, waiting patiently for him to hold out his slim arm. She expertly found a vein in his elbow and pumped the pain killer into his system. In seconds he felt the effects, first came the numbness in his stump, the lack of feeling he was used to. No pain. No sensation. Nothing that could hurt him. After that is was general drowsiness, heavy eyelids, loud yawns and then he was out. The last thing he heard before he was completely consumed was Natalia's melodic voice saying 'don't worry James, I'll be here when you wake.'


End file.
